


Victory Vows

by doridoripawaa



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Marriage, deducedes, mercedue, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29218851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doridoripawaa/pseuds/doridoripawaa
Summary: Dedue calls upon all of the gods and goddesses he knows to help him with one final, monumental task after the war's end. Azure Moon canon compliant.
Relationships: Mercedes von Martritz/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Victory Vows

Victory. 

A reality that felt unreal.

A sweet celebration tainted with bitter regrets.

A conclusion of a seemingly endless night and the beginning of a new dawn.

"We… we really have brought an end to this war," a young woman breathed, her short tawny locks fluttering in the wind behind her. "Now all of Fodlan can be at peace."

All of Fodlan.

Did that include…?

"The goddess heard our cries," a low voice rumbled. His figure was large, tall, scarred, and broad, creating an air of intimidation. His teal eyes, however, were softer than the calmest waters of the sea, and his dark lips were set into a gentle smile. "Thank you for your fervent prayers and frequent visits to the Cathedral, Mercedes."

"Indeed she did," Mercedes agreed, but her twinkling gaze and slight smirk suggested that she had more to say. "But the gods of Duscur also played an important role in leading us to victory, Dedue."

Dedue scratched the back of his head self-consciously, unsure of how to respond. The topic of Duscur, his homeland, his history, his heritage, always aroused a sense of discomfort. Almost everyone in Faerghus looked scornfully upon him. They judged him, ostracized him, condemned him. Mercedes was a devout follower of the goddess of Fodlan, yet she had taken the time to not only acknowledge his beliefs but even to pray to his gods.

The goddess of hospitality and goodwill was said to be a soft, chubby young woman believed to actually be the daughter of a god and a cherub. The legends of this merciful, kind goddess portrayed her as having golden hair woven from strands of light, a large bosom from which she could nurse her flock, and azure eyes to reflect the heavenly sky from which she was born.

Dedue, unknowingly, had been praying to this goddess every day for the past five years. No, longer than that. Ever since he was a student at Garreg Mach Monastery, where the students whispered, the knights glared, and the staff pointed, all directing their malice and suspicion towards him…

The goddess of hospitality had seemingly come down to grace him with her presence and ensure his comfort and safety.

"Indeed," he agreed in a murmur. That was all he could manage to say as storm winds suddenly swept up his senses. He couldn't think clearly, see clearly, hear clearly. Was it fatigue that caused him to feel this way? Relief from the war's end? Sorrow for all who were lost?

Was it a different feeling altogether, one prompted by far more greed than he deserved to ever desire?

"Tonight," a booming voice cried out up ahead. "Tonight we shall pray."

Mercedes and Dedue both directed their attention to the tall, ominous figure standing on a pile of the fallen Imperial capital's rubble. "For those we have lost. For those we have killed. For a brighter future. For prosperity and peace in our coming days." His broad shoulders were pushed back and his chiseled chin raised up. His already imposing figure seemed larger as his thick, fur-lined cape billowed in the whipping wind behind him. The King of Faerghus had spent many years trapped in the horrors of his past and of his mind, but today, as he stood triumphantly overlooking the battleground that his army had seized, he was overflowing with a regal aura. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd looked like a king among kings, and with his blond tresses whipping about his face, he resembled nothing short of a lion, king of the jungle.

"Tonight," he went on, and his voice suddenly dropped in tone and in volume. "We pray for Edelgard von Hresvelg's soul, so that she may find peace."

A snort sounded from Felix, but one glare from Dimitri was enough to silence him. "On the night we return to Garreg Mach, we shall pray in the cathedral. I look forward to seeing  _ all  _ of you there."

His words solidified what Dedue already internally knew but still struggled to acknowledge: the war was over. As he saw the king gently take the hand of the woman who had aided him throughout this journey, had led him from darkness into the light, the Duscurian couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. He wanted that too. That intimacy. That trust. That depth of relationship.

Maybe… he already had it?

Dedue shifted his attention back to Mercedes, whose hands were clasped and pulled in tightly to her chest. "Oh Goddess, please grant us safe travels," she murmured reverently.

Did Dedue deserve to continue praying, after all of his sins? Did he deserve to wish for happiness? He clasped his hands together as well and glanced up at the night sky. Dawn was beginning to break as the sun peeked over the horizon. "God of travel, I humbly implore you to watch over us."

In a hushed whisper, so that nobody else would overhear him, he added, "and gods of life and of courage… Please grant me strength."

* * *

“... and may their souls find peace as they rest with you in the stars, oh Goddess.”

From where Dimitri stood at the front of the cathedral, leading the exhausted army in their prayer, he looked positively radiant. His comrades, his crew, his team, his friends, all stood with their heads bowed and their hands clasped together as they followed him in prayer. They were ragged but reverent, their lips parted to allow low mumbles and murmurs to rise to the vaulted ceiling meters above their heads. While most of the rubble had been cleared out since the onset of the war five years prior, some gaps in the infrastructure still remained, allowing moonlight to pour in from overhead. Outlined with the stained glass windows behind him and the moon and stars sending their light onto him from above, Dimitri looked like a true leader, a king, perhaps a saint.

He would certainly argue with any such attribution, but Dedue would vouch for his character until the day he died.

“... and let us say, amen.”

“Amen” echoed throughout the vast space, bouncing off of pillars and whispering along the wind that poured in from the holes in the ceiling. Maybe that was the reason why Dimitri had yet to patch up the place entirely; he wanted to allow their prayers to ascend unobstructed.

Right now, Dedue needed his prayers to reach the gods as quickly as they could, so he was for once grateful for the slightly disheveled cathedral to still be in a state of disrepair. Even as the other members of the Blue Lions’ army raised their heads and began to mingle about themselves, the Duscurian man kept his head bowed and continued to pray, sending his best regards and his warmest wishes up to the gods of his homeland.

Would they listen to him as he resided in Garreg Mach? Would the goddess of Fodlan pass along his pleas?

“De--oh,” a soft voice traveled to his ears, sweeter than sugar and more charming than a church choir. A pause. Dedue did not acknowledge her presence quite yet, as he still needed to finish his message for the gods. As soon as the word “amen” finally left his lips, however, he slowly and steadily raised his head to see who had come to greet him.

The figure before him was even more ethereal, breathtaking, and heavenly than even the King of Faerghus himself.

“Mercedes,” Dedue greeted her with a curt nod. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting.” He had recognized her voice from the instant she spoke, but his humility had kept him silent as he had finished his prayer. Not just his humility, but perhaps also… his trepidation?

“I hope I did not interrupt you, Dedue,” Mercedes replied, with a gentle smile upon her rosy, round face. “I see now that you were continuing to pray.” As realization dawned upon her, she gasped, but she immediately tried to stifle it by clamping her hands over her mouth. “How silly of me,” she murmured, barely audible. She raised her hands a bit sheepishly to cover her eyes. “You must have been praying to the gods of Duscur.”

Dedue simply nodded in affirmation. “No need to apologize,” he grumbled. “I finished shortly after you arrived.”

“If you say so.” Mercedes didn’t look thoroughly convinced--maybe she thought he was just trying to put her mind at ease--but she dropped the matter. “Is there a Duscurian god for the afterlife?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “Or perhaps one for life in general, to whom we could pray for the souls of the departed?”

Her curiosity never ceased to amaze him. “When a person dies, we pray to the god of life and to the god of travel,” he explained. “The god of life to show gratitude for the time we spent with that person, and the god of travel to help guide the soul safely to the beyond.”

“How romantic,” Mercedes breathed. “Entrusting the souls of the loved ones to help the soul pass on…” She lifted her head to gaze up at the ceiling, and Dedue followed suit. He noticed a crumbled part of the cathedral only a couple of feet away; Mercedes must have noticed it too, because she began to meander in that direction. “I suppose we ask the goddess to do the same, though. To care for the souls of the departed.”

With her chin tilted up to the sky, Mercedes’ profile was perfectly illuminated by the full moon overhead. Its silver glow instantly turned to white as it touched her porcelain skin, and her golden hair seemed to shimmer with starlight. An image of the goddess of hospitality immediately rose to Dedue’s mind, but she wasn’t alone; the gods of life, travel, and courage also accompanied her.

Would the gods limit the amount of prayers that a single person could utter in one day? Would they only accept the prayers on a first come, first served basis? The young man surely hoped that they would be generous, but doubts lingered in the back of his mind. He needed to ask--no, to plead, to beg, to insist--another favor, for he was unsure that he would be able to take the necessary step forward without some divine intervention.

“Are you looking for the Blue Sea Star?” Dedue asked, shaking his head slightly to rid his head of doubts. “This time of year, it should be…”

“Right there!” Mercedes gasped as she pointed straight above. Her deep blue eyes twinkled like the night sky itself, vast and intimidating but also calm and comforting as the moon and stars shone in their reflection. “She definitely heard our prayers, then,” she murmured, and relief seemed to flood off of her in waves. “Tell me, Dedue, do the gods of Duscur also reside in the stars?”

Another inquiry about Duscur. “Mercedes, I… You…” He furrowed his brow as he tossed words around inside his mind, trying to figure out the best way to pose his question. “I will never understand why you try so desperately to learn about a dead culture,” he confessed at last. “If not for me, there would be no purpose for you to learn about our gods, nor our recipes, nor our--”

“Dedue.”

A single but stern word. A fleeting but forceful name. An insignificant but imperative utterance.

“You keep saying that,” she went on. The mage had pulled her gaze away from the sky and turned it directly onto his face; the intensity with which she stared at him seemed to bore into his flesh and dig a straight path to his soul. “If not for you, I would not care about Duscur?” she echoed. “If not for you, Duscur would hold no significance to me? But Dedue, the fact of the matter is…” She glided forward, a fluid motion that brought her directly in front of him, her eyes looking up with that same fierce sparkle. “You  _ are  _ here, and I  _ care  _ about you, so I  _ want  _ to learn as much about you as I can.”

He was here. She cared about him. She asked because she wanted to learn, not out of pity or obligation or spite. Could she feel his heart pounding inside of his chest? Certainly, she was standing close enough to be able to do so.

But as swiftly and suddenly as she had appeared before him, she danced away in a single fleet-flooted hop. “I want you to appreciate yourself more, Dedue,” she murmured, and she collapsed onto one of the nearby pews with an audible sigh. “You’re always so quick to doubt yourself and your worth. We want you here, Dedue. You’re a part of this class, this army, this family.” A sad smile surfaced on her smooth lips. “I… don’t have a family any more. We lost him in this war.”

A pang of guilt pierced Dedue’s chest; how could he have forgotten that they had slaughtered her brother? How could he have forgotten the look on her face when they broke his mask and the baby boy she had once known and loved crumpled onto the ground? He took a hesitant step towards her, and then he carefully sat down on the bench beside her.

“What was he like?” the young man asked quietly.

“Pardon?” Mercedes turned a wide-eyed, perplexed expression onto him.

“Your brother. He is no longer here, but… but you  _ are  _ here.” A chuckle began to rumble in his throat as he recognized the irony in his words. “And I care about you, so I want to learn as much about you as I can.”

Mercedes must have realized the mirrored situation too, for a gentle giggle escaped her lips. “You are fairly convincing,” she conceded. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind telling someone about Emile… especially if that someone is you, Dedue.”

_ Gods, be with me now. _

“If now is not a good time,” Dedue continued, “then I shall wait until you are ready. I shall wait eternally for you, Mercedes. I…” He stood up from the pew and whirled around to face her. His tall, broad figure, probably a little  _ too  _ imposing and intimidating in the low light of the cathedral, towered over the seated young woman. 

But that just meant that her attention would be focused on him and him alone.

“Instead of me telling you about Duscur,” he went on, “allow me to take you there. For our journey, you can tell me all about Emile, and I can tell you everything you need to know before you see what is left of our land. You…” His breath caught in his throat. “You and I, those without family, those with only each other…”

_ Gods of Duscur, goddess of Fodlan, with everything that I am, I beseech you. _

He lowered his hulking body down onto one knee, crouching until he was eye-level with Mercedes.

_ Give me strength unlike any that I have ever needed before. _

“Mercedes, would you…”

_ The strength not to fight for someone else, but to fight for myself. _

“... do me the honor of being my new family?”

A ring.

A gasp.

A hug.

A magic word that was music to Dedue’s ears.

“Yes! Oh Dedue, nothing would make me happier.”

As she threw her arms around him, Dedue grunted and lifted himself back up to his full height, sweeping Mercedes up in his arms as he did so. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and blinked at him warmly and tearfully.

“You can learn about me, and I can learn about you,” Mercedes went on. “We can… we can build a new family! You, me, and… and everyone else who is left in the remains of Duscur!” Her voice grew higher and higher as her excitement built. “We can adopt every last Duscurian orphan, so that no child feels unloved like you, or Emile, or--” She took a deep breath and reached up to wipe away some of her tears. “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself,” she sniffled, and she beamed at him. “I do not wish to overwhelm you.”

“Actually,” Dedue murmured, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” With the goddess of hospitality carving the path, those children would never want for love. “You can teach about the goddess of Fodlan, and I can teach about the gods of Duscur.”

Mercedes nodded fervently in agreement. “I can teach them magic, and you can teach them how to use weapons.” She giggled as Dedue reached up to brush the rest of her tears away. “I can teach them sewing, and you can teach them gardening. I can teach them… oh goddess, who is going to teach them arithmetic?” she gasped.

“We will figure it out,” Dedue reassured her, and for what felt like the first time since his childhood, he felt a genuine smile stretch onto his scarred lips.

  
“Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the commission! ;w; I love these two!


End file.
